Scandal

by Heather Cullman

  "Yes," Julia murmured, her heart going out to Mina. As if the poor dear didn't have enough problems with her looks, her complexion had a distressing tendency to erupt into spots.

  By now they had reached the four sets of double ballroom doors. As they stepped out onto the third-floor gallery and strolled toward the opposite end where the ladies' retiring room was located, Caro changed the subject by saying, "I hear tell that Lord Wolton sprained his ankle yesterday afternoon while viewing horses at Tattersall's, which, I suppose, would explain why he is not sniffing about you this evening. Lord Wickham said that Wolton's grief must be blamed in the entirety on his shoes." She shook her head, as if marveling at such folly. "One would think that the popinjay would have the good sense to leave off his high-heeled shoes while at Tattersall's. Wearing them there seems rather pointless since there are no ladies present to be impressed by his enhanced stature. Do you not agree?"

  Julia laughed. "Yes. Then again, perhaps it was not vanity, but a simple wish to be tall enough to examine the horses' teeth that prompted him to wear them."

  Caro slapped her hand over her mouth, stifling her laughter at her friend's scathing riposte. "Oh, Julia. You truly are wicked," she gasped when she had regained enough control to speak. "I do not know anyone else who-" She broke off abruptly, her brown eyes widening as she gaped at something straight ahead. "My word!" she ejected in shocked accents. "It is Mr. Harwood. What in the world is he doing here?"

  Julia followed her friend's gaze with her own, almost sagging with relief when she saw Gideon Harwood standing before a footman, presenting his invitation.

  He had come after all. Thank God. As she thanked the heavens above for granting her a second chance with the man, she heard Caroline hiss, "Julia!"

  Julia frowned at her friend's sharp tone. "Hmmm?" she murmured, distractedly.

  "You mustn't stare so at Mr. Harwood. People will talk."

  Stare? Talk? Julia blinked, her relief-numbed mind slow to process Caroline's words. When it finally did, she realized that she was indeed staring. Mortified, she tore her gaze away, stammering, "I-I-It is just that I am stunned to see him here."

  "As am I," Caro said. She giggled, something utterly out of character for her. "I must confess that I cannot blame you for staring so. He is rather magnificent looking, is he not?"

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, to deny that she found him the least bit attractive; then Julia remembered the reason for her relief and she forced herself to nod. Now seemed as good a time as any to initiate the charade. "Yes. Magnificent," she concurred, stealing another glance at him through her lowered lashes. And he truly did look magnificent, damn him, though it pained her to no end to have to admit such a thing.

  His perfectly tailored coat was dark blue, beneath which he sported a white silk waistcoat that was cut deep in the front to reveal the crisp linen frills of his shirt. As was appropriate for the formality of the occasion, he wore cream knee breeches, snug ones, she could not help noticing, a fit that emphasized the sleek athleticism of his build in a manner that she found most admirable, in spite of her reluctance to find anything about him to admire. He was, after all a blackmailing knave, which, by all rights of God and man should make him repulsive to her in every way. That he was not, made her seriously wonder at the state of her own character.

  Determining that it must be tragically flawed-how could it not be, what with the unprincipled nature of her thoughts?-Julia sighed and dropped her gaze lower.

  Like most of the men present that evening, Mr. Harwood's annoyingly handsome legs were clad in white silk stockings. Unlike most of those other men, however, his stockings were spotlessly clean. As were his gleaming black pumps, which were fashionably tied rather than buckled. Now pretending to smooth her glove, she swept his entire length with her critical gaze.

  Hmmm. All in all, he looked quite presentable-beyond presentable, to be fair-something that should have pleased her in view of the fact that she would be calling him husband in six short weeks. But she was not pleased-she would not be pleased. Never! Sternly commanding herself to be displeased by what she saw, and failing miserably, she ventured a glance at his face, hoping without any real expectation to find a flaw she could criticize there.

  He was smiling at something one of the footmen said, revealing a flash of exceedingly white teeth. Straight ones, she noted with reluctant interest, and what appeared to be a full set of them. That meant that his breath would most probably be fresh, untainted by the putrid odor of rotten teeth. And that meant that it might not be so very dreadful to kiss him.

  Kiss him? Julia's heart froze in shock at her insupportable thoughts. Good heavens! Her character must be in a far worse state than she had imagined to be having such thoughts about a man she knew to be beyond all contempt. More than a little alarmed she looked away, bowing her head to hide the blush she could feel stinging her cheeks.

  Caroline laughed, a low, throaty sound that suggested that Julia's perusal of the disconcerting Mr. Harwood had been far more blatant than she had realized. "Perhaps you would like it to be H for Harwood after all, eh, Julia?"

  "Of course-" Julia had been about to snap "of course not," but then she remembered her role in the charade and instead replied, "I cannot say, since I do not know the man." Was that really her voice, so shrill and unsteady?

  Another laugh from Caro. "Considering the way he is looking at you, darling, I daresay that there is a very good chance indeed that you will be acquainted by the end of the evening."

  Julia glanced up quickly at Caroline's words to find herself looking directly at Gideon Harwood. Having run the gauntlet of footmen, he now stood a scant two yards away. In the space of a heartbeat their gazes locked, and for several long seconds they stood staring at each other, the world fading away as Julia struggled to regain her wits, which had inexplicably fled her. As she stood helplessly gazing into his starkly chiseled face, the hard set of his lips softened and curved into a slow, arresting smile. Completely disarmed, she smiled back, somehow sensing that it was the correct thing to do. Before she quite knew what was happening, he nodded once and disappeared into the ballroom.

  "Well, well," Caro intoned, her soft voice laden with unmistakable meaning. "It would appear that you have made a conquest this evening, and a most intriguing one, I might add."

  "Perhaps," Julia muttered, though how she managed to speak for the-what? strain? chagrin? anxiety?-clogging her throat, she did not know. Oh, devil take Gideon Harwood! What was it about the blasted man that so unnerved her every time he was in her presence? It was not as if he were so very attractive. Or so she tried to tell herself.

  "I must say that this dull evening has become rather more entertaining for Mr. Harwood's presence," Caroline remarked as they resumed walking. "To be sure, it should prove most diverting to see how he fares in the ton."

  Julia could not help wondering how she would fare as well. Truth be known, as determined as she was to honor her father's bargain, she was not so very sure how to go about doing so. After all, she had to convince the ton that she was in love with Gideon Harwood, and having never actually been in that mysterious state before, what did she really know about it? Oh, true. She knew about the intricacies of courtship and the rules of the game to be played within its boundaries. But courtship was courtship and love was love, and even she knew that they were not at all the same thing. She also understood that if she were to be effective in her role of moonstruck ninny, she must extend her performance beyond simply going through the motions of courtship. Which left the question: How was she to act?

  Perplexed, she contemplated her dilemma, smiling when she hit upon what she decided was the perfect solution. Perhaps she had never been in love, but her friends had at one time or another each fancied themselves to be so, and all had been most forthcoming when sharing their feelings. She'd also observed their besotted behavior firsthand, so the answer to her problem was quite simple: she would model her actions after theirs.

  Wit
h that purpose in mind, she tried to recollect all that she had seen and heard. Hmmm. As she recalled, being in love meant cooking up schemes when with one's closest friends, bird-witted ploys calculated to thrust the lovelorn party into her desired sweetheart's path at every turn. Amy had a particular talent for waylaying would-be suitors, so she would be the one to emulate when acting out that detail. Yes, and then there was famous Helene's deft way of bringing every conversation around to whichever gentleman happened to be in her good graces at the moment. Hadn't Mr. Harwood suggested that she rattle on about him to all of her friends and acquaintances in order to appear appropriately smitten with him? Mmm, yes. He had. He had also said that they should exchange lingering looks.

  As she mulled over his suggestions, Julia found herself wondering how he had come to propose them. Hmmm. Could it be that he had once been in love? Was there a woman somewhere for whom he had cared deeply, one who had quickened his pulse, and to whom he had freely given the tenderness that he could only pretend to give her? For some reason, one that she most definitely did not wish to explore, Julia found the notion of Gideon Harwood loving another woman rather-unsettling. Yes, and she did not like the sensation in the least, so she promptly thrust the thought from her mind and returned to the task of sorting out her role in the charade.

  All right, then. Being as that it was her duty to please the vexing Mr. Harwood, she would act upon his suggestion of exchanging lingering looks, and yes, she would chatter incessantly about him while in company. She would also follow Amy's example and engage her circle in harebrained schemes to toss herself in his path. Since she had never before indulged in such silliness, doing so now should serve to convince her friends smartly enough of her infatuation with the man. In turn, they would gossip of her actions to their other friends and acquaintances. Brilliant! She had only to study and mirror Caroline's elegantly flirtatious manner, add a dash of Mina's blushing coyness, and it was certain to be whispered in every fashionable drawing room that Lady Julia Barham had a crush on Gideon Harwood. Why, he could not help but to be pleased by her performance.

  And when they were alone? How was she to behave during those moments when they were out of their aristocratic audience's view? Julia frowned as she contemplated this new and decidedly delicate facet of her performance. Hmmm. There was the matter of the bargain she had just made with heaven to consider as well. If she had any intention whatsoever of honoring it, and she most certainly did. she must take great pains to avoid provoking, offending, or in any way insulting the exasperating man. In view of her less-than-charitable feelings toward him, her talents as an actress were sure to be sorely tested in the effort. Oh, what to do!

  It took only a moment for Julia to decide upon the appropriate course of action: she would treat Mr. Harwood with courtesy, perfect, unfailing courtesy, nothing more or less. To be charming was out of the question, more than she could manage given her animosity toward him. But courtesy, well, surely she could grant him that? She had, after all, been schooled from the cradle to hide her feelings and to maintain a precise level of civility when in company. That she had mastered that art was something she had proved over and over again during her tiresome tenure in society, which only went to show that she had the ability to be agreeable to Gideon Harwood if she put her mind to doing so. Considering the circumstances, surely he did not expect any more than that?

  Nodding to herself, she followed Caroline into the crowded retiring room. It was settled then. She would be polite, so very proper and decorous in her courtesy that Mr. Harwood would have no room for complaint.

  Chapter 8

  His presence had most certainly commanded the ton's attention. Indeed, every pair of eyes in the ballroom appeared to be trained on him and were in danger of boring holes in his flesh for the intensity with which they watched him as he followed Lord Stanwell through the crush. Painted fans rose in their wake to hide their owners' faces, thus signaling the commencement of gossip. Gideon smiled. Excellent. Everything was going exactly as planned.

  Now halting before his bride-to-be, who stood conversing with a stately brunette and a dumpy blonde with a curiously blanched-looking nose, Lord Stanwell exclaimed in a jovial voice, "Julia, my dearest girl, I have someone with me who very much desires an introduction."

  "But of course, Father," she dutifully replied, smiling first at her father and then at him.

  Thus cued, his lordship introduced, "Lady Julia Barham, allow me to present Mr. Gideon Harwood. Mr. Harwood has spent the better part of the past half hour expressing his admiration for you, my dear. Mr. Harwood, this is my daughter. Lady Julia Barham."

  Gideon smiled and bowed, sweeping the woman before him with an assessing gaze as he inclined his head in formal salutation. She wore a gown of gold-shot bronze tonight, a color that made her skin glow like sun-warmed honey and deepened the amber of her eyes in a manner that he found unexpectedly striking. Even her hair seemed somewhat enhanced, richer in hue and more silken in texture, with each reddish gold strand gleaming as if lit by captured fire. As for her figure . . .

  He discreetly eyed her womanly assets as he straightened back up. As with her skin, eyes, and hair, the gown showed her figure to its best advantage. True, she still looked overly slender, at least for his taste, but the low-cut neck of the bodice revealed a bosom that even he had to admit was surprisingly fine. As she murmured an appropriate response to their introduction, he appraised the overall picture she made.

  While her looks had improved over the past two days, she still could not by any means be termed a beauty. Then again, he was hardly a judge of English beauty. Having spent the majority of his manhood in India, his tastes naturally ran toward earthier women: exotic, sable-haired beauties with mysterious sloe eyes, ample curves, and skin like tawny satin.

  "Mr. Harwood, may I also have the pleasure of presenting two of my daughter's bosom bows? This is Lady Caroline Riddell"-he indicated the brunette, who nodded-"and Lady Wilhelmina Edicott." The plump blonde smiled the sweetest and most genuine smile Gideon had seen all evening, instantly winning his admiration.

  "An honor," he murmured, bowing again.

  That formality complete, Lord Stanwell turned back to his daughter, booming in a voice loud enough to be heard by all those around them, "Mr. Harwood has expressed a rather urgent desire to dance with you, my dear. It seems that he noticed you at Vauxhall Gardens on Sunday night last and was bewitched by your beauty." He clapped Gideon on the back as if they were the greatest of friends. "Though my daughter shall no doubt have my head for telling you this, Harwood, she spied you as well and has been unable to speak of anything else since."

  All around them fans snapped open, the sibilant hiss of whispers arising from behind them as a dozen pairs of feminine eyes regarded them from beneath raised eyebrows.

  "Oh, Papa! How could you?" Lady Julia exclaimed in a chagrined tone, playing the mortified maiden to perfection.

  "Zounds, girl. You have hardly made a secret of your crush. Besides, since Harwood here"-another clap on Gideon's back-"has freely confessed his admiration for you, I see no harm in his knowing of your feelings."

  Mindful of his audience, Gideon smiled and smoothly interjected, "Please do not be distressed, my dearest Lady Julia. As your humble and ardent admirer, I would sooner die the most agonizing of deaths than see you suffer so much as a moment of torment." Ha! And she thought him incapable of inane repartee.

  She looked momentarily taken aback by his flowery speech, as if indeed stunned by the revelation of his unexpected talent. Then she smiled and murmured, "You are far too kind, sir."

  "It is you who are kind to have granted me the precious gift of your favor, a gift that you may be certain I will cherish like the priceless treasure it is." Now in the spirit of his bantering game and rather enjoying the sport, he added in a theatrical voice, "Since you have been so very gracious in honoring me with your regard, may I be so bold as to call you an angel, my dear Lady Julia? For that is what you are. Indeed, how can you n
ot be an angel when the sight of your face elevates my spirit with its beauty and the gentleness of your nature warms my heart with a rapture that can only be heaven-born?" He smiled as the gossiping hiss escalated to an electrified buzz. Perfect.

  Her celestial ladyship again seemed at a loss, gazing at him in a queer manner that made him wonder at her thoughts. Before she could respond, a gentleman seeking a dance from Lady Caroline approached them. After introducing the amiable young man as Viscount Cleland, Lord Stanwell prompted, "Did you not wish to dance with my daughter, Harwood?"

  "More than anything on heaven and earth," he gushed, casting the object of his feigned infatuation what he hoped was a moonstruck look.

  She bit her lip, as if to stifle whatever retort had sprung to her tongue, and then smiled as if delighted by the prospect of dancing with him. "I should be honored, Mr. Harwood," she responded with a sincerity that rang true, even to his skeptical ears. It seemed that her ladyship possessed a talent for acting as well.

  As Gideon offered his arm to escort her to the dance floor, he glanced at Lady Wilhelmina, who watched them with a rather wistful expression. His heart instantly went out to her. Poor chit. He would be willing to bet his entire fortune that she sat out the greater part of every ball. Hating the thought of the gentle creature suffering the humiliation that came from such neglect, he said, "Lady Wilhelmina, would you do me the honor of promising me your next dance?"